"Watch out, already!" Had already snapped out of her mouth, even as she bounced back and was looking up again.
At Dean. Heart already lodging somewhere higher than her throat as the first reactions was to just let it keep going. To bodily drag him from the crowd, while swearing, and explain everything horrible --and painfully good-- about everything that just happened. Bobby, and Anna. Because he knew them, too. Except. Except he's looking at her like they did. Shock with a side of dangerous training in reaction in those eyes. Something wet. Which just changes her reaction as it catches it up, even in the half second.
Heart above her head, heart below her feet, and a sizzle of anger that just makes her want to deck him. Again. Because he's here, and he's here, and he's here. But he's not. And she doesn't know if she can do this again. With him. She can't do this. But she can, she has to. It's not like it's another year in hell. In that bed. (Whatever god was here should fuck himself with a broken glass dildo, that face felt almost worse.)
She didn't take a breath in. When had she ever done these thing insane, rational order.
Her shoulders just dropped a faint half inch as she said, "Yeah. It's me."
She was going to figure out what she was allowed to beat or break tonight, and beat or break the fucking hell out of it tonight.
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"Watch out, already!" Had already snapped out of her mouth, even as she bounced back and was looking up again.
At Dean. Heart already lodging somewhere higher than her throat as the first reactions was to just let it keep going. To bodily drag him from the crowd, while swearing, and explain everything horrible --and painfully good-- about everything that just happened. Bobby, and Anna. Because he knew them, too. Except. Except he's looking at her like they did. Shock with a side of dangerous training in reaction in those eyes. Something wet. Which just changes her reaction as it catches it up, even in the half second.
Heart above her head, heart below her feet, and a sizzle of anger that just makes her want to deck him. Again. Because he's here, and he's here, and he's here. But he's not. And she doesn't know if she can do this again. With him. She can't do this. But she can, she has to. It's not like it's another year in hell. In that bed. (Whatever god was here should fuck himself with a broken glass dildo, that face felt almost worse.)
She didn't take a breath in. When had she ever done these thing insane, rational order.
Her shoulders just dropped a faint half inch as she said, "Yeah. It's me."
She was going to figure out what she was allowed to beat or break tonight, and beat or break the fucking hell out of it tonight.